darling
by finaljoy
Summary: She hadn't just been some woman he'd met in passing. Eames had truly known her, had lived, conned and hopped the globe with her for months. Had loved her like he had no right to. That was why it had been so easy for him to wear her face after not seeing he for so long. And yet, so, so hard. Eames/Blonde
1. A Night Like This

**_AN OH MY GOODNESS IT IS SO EXCITING TO BE ABLE TO FINALLY WRITE THIS. Not only am I finally writing for Incpetion, but I've been sitting on this story idea for over four months! There were a number of things keeping me from putting it up in good conscience, but hopefully that time has allowed me to refine it into something really special :) _**

**_Also, I really wanted to write a dark version of Eames' and the blonde's story, beyond the typical alcohol, sex, betrayal and love that usually goes along with these two. Also, I wanted to look a little more into the different jobs they might have done, and expand upon the thief/forger job._**

**_Please note that each chapter title is a song that relates to the chapter._**

* * *

_From where you are  
You see the smoke start to arise  
Where they play cards  
And you walk over  
Softly moving past the guards  
The stakes are getting higher  
You can feel it in your heart.  
_

_-Caro Emerald, A Night Like This_

* * *

**gaudy.**

It was a flood of flashy carpets, beeping slot machines, cigarette smoke and the laughs and groans of the intoxicated. Eames glanced around, smiled as he shuffled his poker chips, once again feeling that vague sense of distaste. _Vegas. _The gaudy casinos, the people who tossed their cash away for no reason, the ever present noise.

If the money for his latest job hadn't been a grunt load and more, Eames would have laughed in the face of his employer at the thought of moving to the capital of flagrant debauchery and little class.

_And yet you go and fling yourself into the middle of it all,_ he thought darkly to himself, glancing over his cards. Beside him, a spectator was guffawing at what Eames supposed was a potted plant, and he suppressed a sigh, thinking that this obnoxious moron deserved to have something nasty or unfortunate happen to him (such as have his pocket picked, which Eames had done as he'd sat down. Now it felt thoroughly justified). A couple of minutes passed, and Eames was smirking at the man across the table from him, his pile of chips having grown significantly.

"Someone, come and put this cheat in his place," the man half yelled, searching for someone willing to throw away their chips just as he had. Eames shrugged and said lightly "Being better at poker hardly makes me a cheat, now does it? But I'd be willing to take on anyone that sits down, love."

The man glared, jaw working with rage. The noise around them swelled, shouts as someone made bank at the blackjack tables, maybe, mixing with the clink of cocktail glasses and the bright, irritating chirping of the slot machines.

Something brushed Eames' thigh, and he turned to see a blonde woman sit down beside him. He raised an eyebrow at her, cheeky smile lifting his lips.

"Are you here to 'put me in my place?'" he asked, and she gave a laugh, half scoff, half sigh.

"No, I'm...just here for the show." Her smile was flirtatious and riddled with danger, the kind that had undoubtedly led countless men to toss their sense out the window and make general fools of themselves.

"I'd love to give it to you."

"But you don't have anyone to play with you yet," she noted, cocking an eyebrow. In response, Eames just gave a suggestive smile.

Another man slipped up to the table, trying to look like he was simply curious about the commotion, but Eames noticed how his eyes focused mainly on the woman that had just sat down beside him. She in turn pretended not to notice, brushing a lock of hair from her neck, whacking Eames in the face with the delicious smell of honeysuckle.

_Things are about to get interesting,_ he thought, glancing over his shoulder. Two men were leaning against the bar, drinks in hand, but they were similarly staring at the blonde woman.

She smiled at him, continuing their flirty conversation, and Eames figured why not. What was life without a little risk?

**risk.**

"What do you say?" he asked, turning to the woman seated beside him, "Care to join me?"

"I suppose," she purred, leaning in a little closer, elbows resting on the edge of the poker table. He gathered his chips and stood, allowing her to slip her arm around his. They continued talking, him aware of the men slinking along behind them and the fact that she tried to steal his wallet.

By the time they had reached the valet, he was positive she had either run afoul of the local friendly mob or she had managed to con a rather large, nasty organization and hadn't worked a clean escape.

_And that's where I, the poor ignorant bugger comes in._

Eames pulled out a wallet and handed a ticket to the valet, who fetched a beautiful convertible sports car. The woman seemed impressed as he opened the door for her, saying "I honestly wouldn't have pegged you as a sports car man."

"Well, darling," he said, smoothly pulling away, "I'm not."

She gave him a look, a knowing smile on her lips.

"Then I don't suppose you're borrowing it from a friend?"

"If you could call that irritating gentleman beside me a 'friend', then you'd be dead on."

Her laugh was swirled away as he drove down the Strip, which was its usual bustling self despite the fact that it was creeping towards three in the morning. He glanced at her, smile becoming genuine.

**so tell me.**

It wasn't until they had gotten away from the lights and noise that he asked her a question.

"So, tell me, just who were those lovely gents you used me to get away from?"

She stiffened slightly, smile frozen as she stared out the wind shield.

"You...noticed, then?"

"Right from the beginning when that man stepped up to the poker table. Who are they?"

"I don't actually know," she sighed, resting her arm on the armrest built into the door. He raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged. "But I doubt you'd want to find out if you were in my position, either."

"So, are you going to tell me the name of the charming lady they're chasing?"

"Ava," she said after a moment. He could tell she was resizing him, trying to get a grip on who he really was. Before she'd thought he was some amiable sleaze bag that she could slip away from without a sweat, but he'd just tossed something totally new into the equation. She now knew he could spot a tail, and that this wasn't exactly an abnormal part of his life. After a wary beat, she smiled. "Ava Clarke."

"Eames," he said, removing a hand from the wheel and offering it to her. She shook it, asking "Only one name?"

"Oh, no, I have two, but the first's frightfully boring and doesn't suit me very well." Ava's smile turned a little darker, but he let her sit, not caring to bother himself with what was worrying her.

"So...tell me," she began, tone mocking as she mimicked him from before, "what's your story? Stealing people's wallets and identifying tails, that's hardly something you'd call ordinary. Feels like you've been dropped from a Bond movie, complete with British accent."

"Oh, nothing so interesting," he laughed, sending her a slight reproachful look as if asking '_Do I look the type?'_ "I was just out to swindle those drunk fools out of a few thousand dollars, nothing special."

She gave him a look, cocking an eyebrow. The smile teasing her lips was absolutely delicious, and clearly something she had used to her advantage many times before.

"Alright, so you're not a secret agent. So that leaves you to be either a con man, or just an average thief."

"Average? From being a spy to a petty criminal, is that all I get? Darling, I'm _flattered,_" he said, flashing half a smirk at her. "And what about yourself? It's not often that an enchanting lady like yourself is giving rather ominous men the slip in casinos."

"I'm an explorer," Ava said, giving a black laugh. "I traipse around the world, trying this, seeing that, expanding my knowledge on everything."

"Do that professionally?"

"Oh yes. People pay me to go visit worlds people can only _imagine,_ and I go and have a grand old time, learning cultures and secrets just as you please."

It was Eames' turn to raise and eyebrow now. In the circles he ran, 'explorers learning cultures and secrets' were also referred to as thieves and blackmailers. And, if he was honest, it wasn't exactly a stretch to imagine her sauntering along the exact same circles. But...the way she said it didn't make it sound like she was something so _mundane._ There was something dark and exciting about what she really did, and she was just giving him a vanilla and exceptionally_ legal_ version of the truth.

_Oh, of course. She's actually a poacher that runs around the wilds of Africa and South America, hunting down rare beasts,_ he thought scoffed to himself, unable to imagine her running around after tigers and apes in her pricy heels.

"I'll take your word for it," Eames said after a pause, turning into the parking lot of his hotel.

**nothing special.**

Despite the fact that he had done this dozens of times before, Eames felt a thrill as Ava brushed against him as he opened the door to his room. He guessed it was kind of like dreamsharing - no matter how many times he did it, there was still a giddy lurch in him when he considered the adventure before him.

In a few seconds, the door was open and they were inside, Ava's bright red mouth on his before he had time to even finish closing the door.

Eames had to say, she was a _fantastic_ kisser.

He kissed her jaw and her neck, going down and down until he reached her collar bone. One of her hands was running through his hair while the other was working off his jacket, roughly tugging it away from his shoulders. Now that he was right there, barely enough room for their clothes between them, the smell of honeysuckle was all over, absolutely intoxicating him.

**consider this.**

They staggered over to the bed, both laughing a little as their knees bumped against the edge, making them tumble sideways. Ava was on top of him, her leg placed tantalizingly just between his own. He grinned at her as she leaned down and kissed his jaw, the softest of touches.

A thrill of worry went through Eames despite what he had thought earlier. Whatever it was Ava had herself involved with, it was dangerous and in all likelihood, largely illegal. He couldn't help but consider the options. Did he really need whatever nonsense she could potentially drag him in at the moment, when he had just finished a rather shady venture of his own?

Eames stalled to answer his own question, rather occupied with unzipping the back of her dark red dress and brushing his lips over her collar bones.

Of course he knew the answer, and of course it was no, he did not need this at the moment. He was never sloppy enough to leave tracks for his marks to easily trace, but it was always dangerous right after finishing a job. Eames really had no idea who this Ava Clarke person was, much less who she was working for, or if it even affected him.

Was this self-indulgent night really worth what might follow?

The bigger picture said no, but the immediate future said yes_,_ stars above, _yes, _it was entirely worth it.

_Besides,_ he thought to himself as she fumbled with the buckle of his belt, _it's a tad late to back out now._

_**AN When I had originally planned/wrote this chapter, I hadn't seen any of the Daniel Craig Bond movies. When I watched them just a couple of days ago, I was surprised to find that Casino Royale was very similar to the sort of feel I was setting up here, haha. Awesome coincidence, which lead me to give reference to it midway through the chapter :D**_

_**The formatting was also something I wasn't used to, but had seen in a few places and really wanted to try out. It's kind of fun, and I think I'll be using it a lot in future.**_

_**This chapter was a little short, but the next one will hopefully make up for it. **__**Tell me what you think of it so far.**_


	2. Sunday Morning

**_AN Good heavens, long wait. Time got away from me, I'm sad to say. Still, the new chapter's here and I'm rather pleased with it. I hope you enjoy!_**

* * *

**__**_Sunday morning, rain is falling  
Steal some covers, share some skin  
Clouds are shrouding us in  
Moments unforgettable  
You twist to fit the mold  
I am in.  
_

_-Maroon 5, Sunday Morning  
_

* * *

**good morning.**

Eames sighed slightly, readjusting his head on his pillow. He was just thinking that down comforters might almost be worth the mess for the warmth they provided when the woman beside him asked "Sleep well?"

He smiled, cracking his eyes open.

"I suppose you could say that, though that implies that I got more than a couple hours."

Her own smile was wide and mischievous, something her messy hair and smudged makeup couldn't dampen in the slightest. Now, away from the distorting lights of the Strip and casino, and out of the reassuring darkness of the night before, he could see that she was rather pretty. Astonishingly so, but not like the models or showgirls people were so fond of giving the title. Ava had faults like everyone other normal human being, and that made Eames like her all the more. He had a basic tendency to distrust perfect people.

"Not a bad night, though, I hope?" she asked, voice sounding haughty and confident, like she could hardly imagine him saying it was. The way she spoke and acted always seemed like she was a part of some grand joke, even at a time like this.

"Never. Of that, love, I assure you."

Ava's smile stretched into a full on grin, one that tasted absolutely marvelous when he leaned over and kissed her. When he pulled back, they just watched each other. Usually when Eames woke up after spending the night with a woman he'd just met, he'd make sure it was a job well done, or did the hurried duck and run. Not the most elegant form of departure, by any means, but sometimes it had to be done.

**rain.**

He reached over and brushed the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Eames ran his thumb over her cheek bone, and she whispered "Do you hear that? The rain...that's never happened to me before."

Eames paused, listening to the gentle patter of the rain against the windows. A grey light filtered through the white gauzy curtains, giving the room a soft glow.

They lay there a while longer, him closing his eyes and stroking her side. It was silent except for their breathing and the sound of the rain for a few minutes, until Ava's stomach growled. He opened his eyes, a teasing smile on his face, while hers was open surprise. Ava hid her mouth behind her hand, fingers barely curled. A laugh escaped her and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"I suppose that's my cue," he said, rolling off his stomach and sitting up. Ava sat up as well, turning so that her bare back faced him. He watched her head into the bathroom before getting up and looking at the clothes on the floor. Eames sighed through his nose as he sorted through the hectic mix of his and Ava's clothing. He pulled on his pants, leaving them unbelted after putting all of Ava's clothing in a pile on the bed.

**breakfast.**

Eames walked into the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and cooking tools on the counter. By the time Ava returned from the bathroom, he had already filled a plate will a handful of crepes. She seated herself delicately at the island where he was cooking, watching his hands work.

He glanced at her, that teasing smile once more on his face. She had pulled on one of the bathrobes the hotel provided, which he was finding highly attractive (and distracting). Ava had also cleaned up her makeup which had smudged into a mess from the night before. Her lipstick was gone, and her eye shadow and eyeliner had been wiped into a tamer form.

"You cook as well?" she asked, and he shrugged, pouring the last bit of batter into the pan.

"I dabble. I figure that if I want to survive by my own hand, I had better learn how to feed myself with style."

Ava gave a smile as Eames set a plate before her, of the few honest smiles he had seen ever since she had flounced over to sit by him at the poker.

He offered her a small container of berries, whipped cream and almonds.

"That's quite a lot of food for a person that's practically living out of a suitcase," she noted mildly, taking the fork her offered her. Eames cast her a look, a little bit impressed that she had noticed this. Wariness fluttered in his stomach-normal people didn't pay attention to details like those. What had she seen in the little time she had been free to look around the room?

"I, unlike most people, don't want to eat out every day. It adds up," he said, leaning against the counter. Ava gave him a long look that said she didn't believe his words. She began eating, but after a few bites, she asked "So...why did you cook me breakfast? And why aren't you eating any?"

"Well, darling, you are far too classy a woman to pay for the wonderful night you gave me, and I can't just let you walk away empty handed, so I made you breakfast."

She made a face, clearly trying to decide whether to smile at the compliment or glare at him at the slight jab. He laughed, eyes back on the pan.

"As for me not eating, I don't feel like it at the moment." This wasn't strictly true, but Eames wasn't quite ready to become so familiar with this woman. To him, sitting down and eating a meal with a person for no other reason than because you felt like it was one of the most familiar things a person could do, something that he personally had not done very often after becoming a dreamsharer. It took a lot more to get into his personal good books than just sleeping with him.

**a bit odd.**

Ava placed another crepe on her plate, smiling wryly.

"You're not like most men, Mister Eames."

"Most men," he said with a groan, rolling his eyes. "They're dreadfully boring brutes, trust me, love, I'm glad that I'm not like them." As he spoke, he slipped his hand into his pocket. Eames fiddled with the loaded poker chip inside, trying to settle his nerves.

This didn't have the marks of a dream, he could replay the events of the evening backwards almost perfectly, and nothing was off about the physics of the place, but he could just _feel _something was wrong. Maybe it was the fact that Ava had been in the process of being followed by several rather shady men when he'd met her, or that when they had been talking in the car, the only important thing she had told him had been her name, and that might not even be true. Plus she hadn't been the least bit fazed when she had found out he had stolen a man's wallet and car, which wasn't exactly the best of signs, even in normal circumstances.

Ava finished eating and stood up, carrying her plate to the sink. She brushed past him, and he smelled honeysuckle again. While her back was turned, Eames swiftly pulled out the chip, flipping it. Both sides were identical, except for a small path of color by the serial number. One side, it was blue, and the other, green. In real life, if he flipped it, it would always land on blue, while a dream would always start out green, then alternate to blue.

_Blue._

Eames sighed in relief, but the question of what was wrong still hung in his mind. Instincts were very rarely deceived , and they'd been going slightly crazy ever since Ava had sat down beside him the night before. Maybe this was all a ruse and she was actually-

"What's that? Ava asked. Eames snapped his head up, jerked out of his line of thought.

"Hm, oh, it's a poker chip," he said, holding it up for her to see. Ava raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"Well, I really must be heading off now," she sighed instead, turning to look at the clothes Eames had piled up for her.

"Headed back to those fellows from the casino?"

"Mm, no, I was actually rather hoping to avoid them," she said, walking over to the far nightstand. Ava picked up something he hadn't noticed, a small hourglass, roughly the size of his thumb. She considered it, then flipped it over and set it back down on the nightstand. Her eyes were trained on the grains of sand as they trickled down to the bottom bulb.

"Leaving town? Or are you headed somewhere a little more exotic?"

"Not quite sure yet," she murmured, not moving from her position. Eames narrowed his eyes, noticing that Ava only turned to look at him after the top bulb of the sand glass was completely empty. He smiled when she glanced over her shoulder at him, slipping into the bathroom and closing the door.

**open later?**

"Would it be too much to ask you to lunch before you leave?" he asked, watching Ava strap on her black stilettos.

"Getting attached?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, and he gave a smile.

"Merely interested, darling. We didn't exactly have time for tête-à-tête last night, and since I'm already going out I figured it might be nice to have some company."

Ava eyed him, weighing the options, then shrugged.

"You're not the first person to ask me to stick around, but usually they go for a phone number instead of a full on date."

"Well, since we've already gotten sleeping together out of the way, things might as well be as classy as possible. I'm not making you come, mind, just inviting you to the lovely little cafe called 'Ananda' at twelve-fifteen. Come if you like."

Ava's smile was haughty and mischievous, giving absolutely nothing away. She stood up, adjusting her skirt and then walking to the door.

"I'll see if those fellows will give me the time," she told him, something delightfully full of promise. Eames' smile was dark as she opened the door, a flash of blonde hair and then she was gone.

**cogitate.**

Eames leaned against the counter again, thinking things over.

He was certainly headed into dangerous waters. The miniature hourglass more than anything confirmed this to him.

That had been a totem, he'd bet his life on it, or at least his poker winnings from the night before. So, she was an extractor and ha wronged some major company. This wasn't especially unusual, extractors often ran afoul of some company of other, typically because they were expecting the people they hired to fix all of their problems in the time it took to take a nap.

If he kept up with this woman, Ava, things would go awry very quickly. Eames knew how these things went. A single conversation could suck him up in this, dumping him who knew where or in what shape.

Still...there was something irresistible about Ava. She was beautiful, yes, but also clever, elegant and confident, save the _queen,_ was she confident. Every look, every gesture, every single expression was dripping with a certainty that was rather hard to find. It bled out and even made _him_ a little more assured, which was an impressive enough feat as it was.

Despite everything, though, Eames just knew he would keep going, keep pushing the boundaries of safety and would eventually have to sprint to try and find refuge again. Of course he would.

_I wouldn't be bloody Eames if I didn't launch head first into something spectacularly stupid, _he thought to himself, recalling the injuries, deaths, traumas and staggeringly large bills he'd racked up because of such idiocy.

_But hey,_ he countered, heading towards the shower, _this will be more interesting than heading back to the casinos._

**lunch.**

Eames sat at a table in the Ananda Cafe a couple of hours later, unable to banish the slight anxiety in his stomach. He played with his poker chip, rubbing his fingers over its face. Despite what he'd said, he wanted Ava to show. There were few people that were incredibly intriguing to Eames, and she was one of them. She had secrets, ones that begged to be learned, and he'd be damned if he didn't at least try.

He shifted, wishing he had chosen something a little lighter. The rain from that morning had burned away, leaving a vengeful, muggy heat in its wake. He had left off his suit jacket, but apparently his light striped shirt was still too much. Thankfully the heat was cut somewhat as the Ananda Cafe was all indoor with air conditioning, but every time the door opened (which was much more often than he liked), a burst of heat came in.

A waiter set down his drink, and he grunted a thank you. The soft tinkle of the door opening sounded, and Eames turned, expecting Ava. A middle aged woman and a toddler walked in, then took a seat. He pressed his lips together, sinking a little farther into his sour mood.

_Well done, old boy. You've let a little fling get stuck in your head. What next, philanthropy?_

The door opened again, but he ignored it. He wasn't going to be the lovesick git in this picture, no sir.

The other chair at his table was suddenly pulled back, and Ava set down across from him. She was wearing a white sundress and hat, dark pink accessories serving to add a little pop to her outfit.

"Good afternoon," she said, curtly, settling into her chair and hanging her white handbag on the back of her chair. Eames smiled, not letting his surprise show.

"Afternoon, darling. So glad you could make it."

"Mm, I have some time to kill, and I figured since you had already invited me, there was no point in coming up with my own lunch plans."

"How practical," he smiled, considering how things were supposed to go now.

"Order anything yet?" she asked, gazing around the cafe with mild interest.

"Just a drink."

**now that tête-à-tête.**

They made small talk neither of them really found interesting until their food came. After that, they spoke about travel and the various cultures they had encountered. Ava's eyes shone when she began talking about France. There seemed to be some special affinity for the country, though he couldn't figure out why.

Eames fiddled with the poker chip in his pocket, trying to get rid of the feeling of uneasiness. Ava was leaving the city, and he'd be headed who knew where in less than a week. Despite the fact they had continued what was merely supposed to be one night stand, he knew that if they truly parted, there'd be almost no chance of them seeming each other again.

He glanced out the window, mouth quirking slightly at the sight of all the people sluggishly moving along the sidewalk. Several people were waiting for the bus, all huddled under a bit of shade. One made an unwisely chosen to wear a long sleeve black shirt, something he was clearly regretting now.

Eames looked back at Ava, who was taking a refined sip of lemonade. She had a knowing smile on her face, like she was holding onto a delicious secret.

"What's got you so pleased?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"Nothing. I just am enjoying myself. It's not often you find a man that is adept at making small talk."

"Oh, I wouldn't sell us out so short. But I suppose not many men actually try making small talk after a night with you," he countered, making her roll her eyes good naturedly.

"Ugh, more than I'd like. But certainly not the majority, that's for sure."

Eames took another sip of his drink, completely aware that the smile border lining smirk was still fixed on her face. A part of him was just beginning to wonder if he was the butt of some terribly dangerous joke when she glanced at her delicate wrist watch.

"It's been wonderful, Mister Eames, but I have a plane to catch," she said, straightening in her chair. Eames smiled and waved for the check, watching her take a last drink from her lemonade.

"The same goes for me, love. I'm glad I could get this last hour or so before you're whisked away to some foreign paradise."

"I should be so lucky," she scoffed, riffling through her bag. The waiter appeared with the bill, and Eames paid, then stood up.

"The least I can do is walk you out," he said, more for his own benefit than anything. If he wasn't to ever see her again, he would at least like to catch a bit of that wonderful honeysuckle smell again. Ava stood up as well and offered her arm to him. Eames took it, escorting her outside into the heat.

Eames blinked as he stepped into the stark sunlight, glancing around through squinted eyes. His stomach sank as he caught sight of a person across the street.

The man with the black shirt, the one that had been waiting at the bus stop. He was still there, albeit not in the same place. The other people at the stop had left, presumably getting onto the bus when it arrived, but he was still there, now flipping through a magazine. He couldn't be waiting for someone, as he had been there for almost an hour and no one wanted to stand around in Las Vegas heat, especially while wearing black during the summer. Unless…he had been waiting for someone to come out.

"Did you drive here, or come by taxi?" Eames asked Ava, pressing the worry out of his voice.

"Taxi," she said, completely unaware of his worries. He glanced back behind them, all theories confirmed when the man put down the magazine, crossed the street and began walking down the sidewalk a ways behind them. He looked completely casual, pulling out a cell phone and talking into it casually, but that hardly changed the fact that he was undoubtedly a tail.

"Now, I don't mean to alarm you, darling, but you seem to have grown a tail," Eames said in Ava's ear, forcing himself not to look backwards. She didn't change in the slightest, except to pull out a light tittering laugh.

"Really, now? Let's wait a block and see," she responded, gesturing down the sidewalk.

"If you insist."

Facts and theories were whirling around in Eames' mind as he tried to discovery what on earth was going on. Ava had yet another tail, which was a little more serious than he had previously thought. One tail was fine, it was positively common place in the extractor world, but having _two_, moreover, one that strived so hard to blend in...that was cause for worry.

Just what had she done to receive this sort of attention, what corporation or sad billionaire had she ripped off and tried to evade?

One fact was for sure, though. Eames had been sucked into this mess as efficiently as if he had been in it from the beginning. These men would pursue him, and without knowing why, or to what end...things could become very dangerous indeed.

**roundabout.**

A block later, the tail had closed in ever so slightly. Eames could tell from the strain in her eyes that Ava was worried, which wasn't exactly a good sign. He stopped her, turning to flag a taxi. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tail speed up a little.

"I think you should tell me just what these men want, and why they're after you," he said lightly, smiling at Ava. She pursed her lips, then forced it into a smile.

"I don't think you do, actually. Like you aren't in deep enough as is."

"Don't mess about, we both know that I'm in it 'til the end. They've seen us together twice, who knows what conclusions those buggers are forming now. Did you steal something, sell secrets to the wrong people?"

"No, I don't know why," she said, voice still that forced light tone. An empty taxi had just turned the corner, changing lanes to meet the two of them. Eames ignored the lie, having no time to waste in chastising her.

"Because I can help. One dreamsharer to another," he whispered in her ear. Ava stiffened, smile dropping from her features.

"How did you know," she breathed, hardly audible over the people around them.

"The hour glass. It's your totem, right? The idea just sprang up a few years ago, but mercy, did it spread fast."

"And the poker chip, that's yours?" she asked, turning to look at him. Ava was clearly reappraising him, shifting the new found extractor in with the smooth thief and possible conman in her head. Eames gave a nod just as the taxi pulled up. People were swirling all around them, oblivious to the danger the two were in. Across the street, a bus was just starting to slow down, readying to pull up to the bus stop. Behind them, the man following Ava was closing in, just meters away. Eames wasn't exactly eager to see what happened when he caught up.

He opened the door for Ava, saying hurriedly "Alright, when I close the door, you go out the other side and run to the bus. Got it?" Ava gave him a nod, taking off her hat and sliding in. He got in behind her, eyes on the tail, who was barely a shop away.

"I'll meet you in front of the airport in thirty-five minutes, okay?" she asked hurriedly, and he tore his eyes away from the tail in surprise. Her eyes were wide with concern, big and brown and a little scared. Eames gave a shaky nod, and Ava leaned over and gave him the quickest of kisses, then sprang out the other side of the taxi. She skittered behind a car and then began running back down the other side of the street, headed towards the bus stop.

Eames watched her for a moment, then looked forwards at the driver. He seemed vaguely bemused and a little worried, but after glancing out the window to the man staring after Ava, then breaking into a run to try and catch, seemed to decide that he really didn't want to know.

"Alright, where we headed?" he asked, pulling away from the curb. Eames grinned, relief flooding through him as he gave the address to his hotel.

**pack your bags.**

Eames hurried into the hotel, aware of both the taxi meter and the timer to meet Ava were quietly ticking away in his head. Ever since he had become a dreamsharer, Eames had become more and more acutely aware of time. It had reached the point that without consciously counting, he could tell almost the exact passage of time. He had thought it a convenient side affect of sharing dreams before, but now it was just an anxiety-inducing nuisance.

He skipped past the elevator and bounded up the stairwell, forcing himself to walk when he reached his hallway. No need to worry anyone that might happen to be in the hall with him.

As he pushed the door open to his room, Eames felt intensely thankful that he had been living out of a suitcase, as Ava had put it. After being forced to pack his bags in only a couple of minutes a few times, he started to figure out the use of speed over comfort.

It only took a few moments for him to grab up the miscellaneous items that had wandered around the room, and then he was back in the hall, headed towards the front desk. He had been planning to stay in Vegas for at least another couple of days, but the thought of the men following Ava stuffed away the complaints of wasted cash. A few long, tense moments later, he was walking back out front to his taxi and loading his bags into the popped trunk.

The driver asked if he was headed to airport, more formality really, as he had clearly heard the quick conversation between Eames and Ava. Eames grunted in agreement, counting off the time he had left to get there in time. When was Ava's plane taking off, and would he have time to grab a ticket to board it?

He kept finding himself glancing behind him, half expecting to see a rather ominous black vehicle following him. Nothing unusual popped out at him, and Eames found himself mentally giving a sigh of relief when they pulled up to the airport with a couple of minutes to spare. He paid and practically jumped out of the taxi, grabbing his bags from the back. The cab driver looked just as relieved when Eames removed his bags, some of the danger of being pursued by rather questionable people lifted off of his shoulders.

Eames pretended to relax as he strode across the street to the front doors. He scanned the sparse crowd, trying to find Ava. Had she made it there already, or given up waiting and gone inside without him? Or had she been stalled somehow?

"Eames," a voice called to him and he turned, a little of the tension easing out of him. Ava was striding towards him, a pair of sleek, dark brown suitcases trailing behind her. She looked a little windswept, as though she had rushed just as much as he had. Her smile was uncertain yet entirely thankful that he had shown, a smile he could only return.

"Ava," he replied as she stopped less than a pace from him. "I'm assuming you got here alright?"

"Yes, he missed the bus and couldn't catch up with me at the hotel."

"Then we better go in before he catches us here," he said, gesturing to the front doors. She smiled, nodding. Her dark pink lipstick was the exact shade of the bracelets on her wrists, and the hair clip holding her hair back.

**flight.**

Great good luck allowed Eames to purchase a ticket on the plane, and for Ava to switch seats so that she was sitting by him. It turned out that they were headed for Florida, a destination Ava told him that she picked out at random. Eames really only allowed himself to feel comfortable when they board the plane, because by that time, there really wasn't much those men following them could do. Not with national security ready to pounce on anyone willing to make a disturbance in an airport, particularly a very large one like in Las Vegas.

Ava gave him a smile as people shuffle past in the aisle, trying to fit luggage about their seats and figure out who got what seat. She seemed like a much softer version of the confident, haughty creature he had met the night before, not necessarily weak and emotional, but more...human. With a secret or two stripped away and less reason to hide, Ava had decided to let some of the barriers down.

He gave a small smile and a slight nod in return, glancing back at the people shifting to the back of the plane to his right. She turned her eyes towards the window, the conversation having ended before it started.

Without looking at him, Ava settled her hand over his. Eames gave her a look, noting how her posture hadn't changed, and that she still seemed completely relaxed. Not saying a word, Eames gently turned his hand to hold hers.


End file.
